HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] You're right. Has Dawker come?
FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. The Jackmans would like to see you, sir.
HILLCRIST. What about?
FELLOWS. I don't know, sir.
HILLCRIST. Well, show them in.
FELLOWS. [Going] Yes, sir.
[HILLCRIST turns his swivel chair round. The JACKMANS come in. He, a big fellow about fifty, in a labourer's dress, with eyes which have more in then than his tongue can express; she, a little woman with a worn face, a bright, quick glance, and a tongue to match.]
HILLCRIST. Good morning, Mrs. Jackman! Morning, Jackman! Haven't seen you for a long time. What can I do?
[He draws in foot, and breath, with a sharp hiss.]
HILLCRIST. [In a down-hearted voice] We've had notice to quit, sir.